Attack on the Dursley's
by Kidduffet
Summary: ONESHOT - For introducing my writing style.


_Author's Note : Hehe, I'm back on a new name, with a new text ... this is something i made up in some spare time... i made it to show off my writing style (or lack of it...) it's for the Joint HP Fanfic project... we're a team of currently 13 individuals from FF, that work together on a brand new (and huge) 6th year fic. If you are interested in helping somehow, consider sending me a mail at (vanlimbeek at wanadoo.nl) and I'll be sure to get back to you. We have our own board, and we listen carefully to all opinions. Currently deciding the new DADA teacher. see ya later _

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**_Prologue _**

It was just another ordinary day in the life of a not so ordinary young man. The boy-who-lived, as he had been known among his own kind, left him to live among Muggles, and some of the worst Muggles he could meet, at that. The summer was always a time of great boredom for the boy, as it was the time of the year when his loneliness hit him at full force. Nobody wanted to talk to him, nobody wanted to help him with what he felt. A kick in the stomach is what he could have, nothing more. The Dursley's, the muggles Harry Potter lived with, were terrible to him. Harry had been locked up with them for over 10 years, until finally a letter from Hogwarts landed in his hands. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – the place where young men like him, wizards, go to when they reach the age of 10. The Dursley's had been more docile this year, most likely because a group of strange wizards had threatened them... If Harry did not give a message that everything was okay every 3 days, the magic-users would Apparate and set things straight. It had done wonders to the amounts of kicks and punches Harry got, but the Dursley's hadn't changed their attitude toward him. Dudley, Harry's nephew, had always been terrible against him. Dudley was quite huge, and he had used this on many occasions to settle their differences with a hard right. Since Dudley and his parents knew what he was, a freak in their eyes, Dudley had become more and more afraid of Harry. Harry didn't mind; it was good to have less punches. Last year Dudley finally saw the true power of a wizard, when Harry had kept two Dementors from sucking his soul out of his body. Dudley hadn't said a word all summer, which was quite unusual, since Dudley knew that Harry was prohibited of using magic when among the muggles- a fact the Dursley's had not been aware of for quite some time. Harry thought the shock Dudley got when he was attacked by the incarnated fear that the Dementors are, he saw what he didn't want to believe. Now, every time Harry saw Dudley and his so-called friends, which were all under strict supervision of Dudley, wrecking something, Harry didn't even stop. Dudley would leave before Harry was too close, to prevent that Harry ever spoke to him. He had heard Dudley had been to a counselor for over 2 months, to get over his fear for the dark, which had become as much a problem has his continuing weight problems. Dudley had not participated in any boxing or wrestling games all year – he simply couldn't take the stress anymore. Harry knew what had happened to Dudley, and he also knew that the young Dursley would never be the same again, now that he had met the... thing. Harry was sure that Dudley and he now shared the same greatest fear.

Vernon Dursley, the father of Dudley, and husband of Petunia Evans did not like Harry. Not the slightest bit. Since Harry had returned to their house last summer, Harry had heard almost nothing but complaints from him. But he also heard fear, fear for things that he couldn't explain, but they were always somehow connected to Harry, after which he would get another lecture on how bad wizards really are. Vernon had decided that he wanted to spend as little time with Harry as he could. He left for work early in the morning, and returned late in the evening, and he never said much when it was Saturday. And on Sunday the three Dursley's left, where to Harry did not know. They just left for some other place that was better than being around Harry, which was one of their primary goals, this vacation. Harry sighed. The Vacation had not been the worst ever... Harry was alone a lot, so he could read in his books and do things he would normally not be allowed to. Like watching television. He heard some strange happenings on the news now and then, and he knew what had happened. The Second War against Voldemort was starting, and he himself was the center-point of it all. Harry sighed again. He knew that he was safe in this house, but it didn't feel like that. The protective charms that kept him safe were placed here by Albus Dumbledore – the headmaster of his school, and the person that left him on his aunt's doorstep after his parents were killed. But he knew that the person that was after him could very well be stronger than Dumbledore, and break the charm. He didn't suspect it would happen now, since he had noticed no attack on the Dursley Residence yet. Harry rubbed his forehead. His scar hurt more than it had ever done before, constantly. Searing pain, driving Harry to the edge of insanity, had been quite common this vacation. Harry got used to the new pain after a while, and noticed that even though it seemed to become less apparent, he knew that it was only getting more painful. His body was adapting to the new pain, and he learned to live with it as well. Voldemort was quite angry now, as if something wasn't working. Harry didn't know what to think, but he knew that it had something to do with him. 'Only three weeks now' he whispered to himself. The Burrow sounded like the place he wanted to be right now, but Harry knew that would take a lot of planning. Dumbledore had placed the charm that protected him now, on the same day that the Headmaster left Harry on this doorstep. It would take preparation to make an equally strong barrier around a wizard's house. Grimmauld Place 12 was no different, although Harry didn't really want to go there.

Harry sighed. Even though he knew he would be leaving soon, his stay here wasn't less boring. He had thought that Voldemort's resurrection would've allowed him to go back to his world much sooner. But that was not what happened. When Harry sat on his room, looking out the window, searching for flying Ford Anglia's or Dark Marks, he thought of his friends. Dozens of letters he got from them, but none of them really told him anything. The letters were protected by a spell Harry couldn't identify, although it seemed to prevent the Dursley's from reading them (although they had never read any of his letters before) ...

Harry sat down on his bed. He knew that he would be going Somewhere in three weeks, although he could only guess where. It would most likely be the Black's house, but he didn't really care that much. As long as he got away from this dreadfully boring place. He thought that the resurrection of Voldemort, and the revelation that it wasn't some weird nightmare from a weird kid, would make his return to the wizarding world much sooner. But that was not quite what happened. In fact, it had only meant that he had to stay an extra week, so that the Order could finish the preparations of his departure from the Dursley's. Harry looked around, then inspected the outside world trough his window, looking for flying Ford Anglia's or Dark Marks. And he thought of his friends. Dozens of letters he had received, from almost everyone he knew in the wizarding world, although none of the letters really told anything. They were all very simple, to make sure that anyone that intercepts them would not be able to make heads or tails of it. The letters where also protected by a spell that made them shimmer slightly in the morning-light; when his uncle had snatched one, he had asked Harry what he was reading, since there was nothing on the parchment. It was an anti-muggle spell, Harry had concluded, but there wasn't anything on it that would've told his aunt and uncle anything. Dudley had never even tried reading the letters, since he thought they were poisonous, considering the one time he had taken a piece of candy from a wizard, his tongue had grown 6 feet long.

The letters were mostly about how boring the vacation of the person writing it was. Harry knew perfectly well that this was not at all the case. From the cryptic clues he got from some of his letters, most notably from Ron and Hermione, he figured out that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Bill, Charlie and Remus were at Grimmauld Place 12, while the rest of the order came and left when they wanted. It had surprised him that it seemed Percy had come to live with the Weasley's again; Ron's big brother had given up his work at the ministry when he had seen the evidence that Voldemort was yet again, alive. Voldemort. Ron still had trouble saying it, Harry knew, and he never named him in the letters either. He had once written that Quirrels had killed another person, which had raised Harry's eyebrows, until he understood that he mean none other than you-know-who. His best friends where at the Order's hideout, in the house of the Black family, that was no more. The last of the noble family of Black, which was a family of dark wizards, much like the Malfoys, had been his Godfather Sirius Black.

And again and again Harry thought of the last time he had seen Sirius. Fighting, in the Ministry of Magic. And he saw once more how a murderous witch, the same that had taken the sanity of Neville's parents, had fired a spell at his godfather. And he saw once more the shocked look on the face of the man he looked up to like a son to a father. And he saw again that the Marauder flew threw the air, and how he hit the veil that hung under an archway. And how his Godfather's face never reappeared from the other side. He had died, said Dumbledore. Harry felt a surge of anger. But the anger wasn't directed to Dumbledore, not at Himself, and most certainly not at Sirius. It was pointed to the one person that had now taken the lives of his parents, an innocent boy from Harry's school, and now, his godfather. Voldemort. And Harry knew that they would one day come face to face. And he was destined to be ready on that day, to carry out the Prophecy that Dumbledore had listened to. The Prophecy. Something that had dominated Harry's every thought. To kill or to be killed it said. And Harry was supposed to have something that the Dark Lord did not have. A power of some sort, perhaps love? Harry didn't know, but he was sure that he would find out eventually; would he kill Voldemort, then he would have avenged his Godfather's death. Would he be killed; than he would be with him forever. Either way, Harry thought, I can't lose. But I CAN win, and that is what I intend to do. And Harry thought about the task ahead of him. To kill the most dangerous wizard that had ever lived. Twice. And to survive it, as he had done before when he was just a baby. And Harry smiled about everything that he had lived trough. He would be able to take Voldemort on one more time.

Harry rolled over and glanced at the heap of gifts he had received; not for his birthday, since that was still a while away, but just for the fact that they were sorry for him, that he had to stay at the Dursleys while they could do whatever they wanted. Ron Weasley had sent the first thing, and from there, it just got more and more. Ron sent him a beautiful book about Quidditch, his favorite sport, played on broomsticks. It contained moving pictures of every daring move there was in the Quidditch game, including some moves he had seen himself on the World Championships. And they were all shown by Professional Quidditch-players. Even Krum appeared several times in the book, although the pictures flashed 'Stupid Git' now and then, which was obviously a little thing Ron added before sending it over. He was happy Hermione never saw it; Krum had been her friend for a while, in their fourth year. Ron couldn't get over the fact, and Harry had told him that he should get over it, many, many times. He just wouldn't listen.

Krum... the Triwizard Tournament; it seemed like a dream... the dragons that he had beaten on his broom, the people he saved from the bottom of the Hogwarts lake; the creatures and spells in the maze that he had defeated. But not all of it seemed like a dream. The last part was terrible. A terrible, deadly nightmare, in which he forever would see a friend of his, or at least someone he had came to respect, get an untimely removal from the world. 'kill the other' ... those words would forever drill his mind like a lecture from Snape. Cedric had never known what happened. One moment he thought he had won the Triwizard Tournament, the next moment he was dead, killed by the deadly Avada Kedavra curse. And it had not been just anybody that killed him. Once more, it had been under strict orders from Voldemort himself. 'Kill the other' Voldemort seemed to shout, directly at Harry. 'Kill the other!' Harry shook his head, trying to remove the unwanted memories. He couldn't. This would keep haunting him until he had put an end to the man that caused it. And Harry felt guilt. For Voldemort would not have killed Cedric if Harry hadn't been there. Harry was the target all along, not Cedric.

Harry thought about the experiences that he had gotten since the first day on Hogwarts. It seemed that his mind would easily grab the negative things, hold on to those thoughts, and drive him mad by infinitely repeating the same sentences. 'Kill the other.' Harry tried to think about happier times, but his mind couldn't find anything had he could truly smile about. He had lost a lot in his life, he had gained little. The only thing that he could remember as truly wonderful, was his first day at Hogwarts. And even that was beginning to fade. He tried to smile at the first day entered his mind. He had been more amazed than he had ever been. Hagrid had came to see him, on his birthday, and the huge man had given him the message that he was a wizard. A truly wonderful day, Harry thought, and for a split second a thin smile appeared on the boy's face. Than it darkened again.

Harry picked up another thing he had received. Another book, this time it came from Hermione, and obviously, it had something to do with school. Hermione's gifts always seemed to say that he should make more homework. He thought about her for a moment, then grabbed the beautiful glittering book 'Animagi' was printed on the front, and it contained every Animagus that had ever lived. Or at least, the registered ones. Harry thought about the Animagi he knew. His father had been one. A stag he was, and Harry could imagine how magnificent he must have looked. It seemed that his father's Animagus form had influenced him somehow, since his Patronus, the shining silver defense against the beings of fear, the Dementors, had taken the form of such a beautiful beast. He knew others. Peter Pettigrew, the traitor was one; and as his sneaky nature implies, his form was the rat. The dangerously deceiving Wormtail had escaped death on more than one occasion. Remus Lupin wasn't quite an animagus, but close enough, he was a Werewolf. When Harry had told the Dursley's about this, they had looked so terribly scared, he had hardly been able to stop laughing at their faces, that were torn as if they had just seen his werewolf-form in broad daylight. And Harry finally smiled with whole his heart. But then his mouth returned to it's normal state. He had thought about the last of the Marauders. Sirius had been a dog, Snuffles, and in his animagus form he had been able to visit Harry occasionally, in Hogsmeade among other places. His godfather, that had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the Azkaban Jail, had shown himself for the first time, when he was near a park, in his third year. He had thought he'd seen the Grim that day. But it wasn't the Grim that told him that they might live together when his name was cleaned of all crimes. And now he was dead.

Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he was sure that there would be no tears, he opened the green eyes again, green eyes he had inherited from his mother. A single tear made it's way down to the next gift. It made a strange noise, but was quieted down almost immediately. The gift that was before him was something he had not yet unpacked. And he didn't dare do it at the Dursley's. Who else than Hagrid could send over such a package; Harry was sure something very strange was in there, since he heard rattles and strange high-pitched screams from it. And Harry could've sworn that the package liked to move itself towards the window when he wasn't looking. Harry thought about his big friend, Hagrid, his teacher for Care for Magical Creatures. The Ministry, and in specific one Dolores Umbridge, had tried to forcefully remove Hagrid from his house. Of course Hagrid fought back, and he even won, but he had to flee, to join the headmaster. And his thoughts became deadly when he thought about Dolores Umbridge, the worst Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher they had ever had, including his second-year teacher. They had learned simply nothing in her classroom, except maybe that there are lessons that are more boring than History of Magic. Harry tried to forget the terrible woman, but she wouldn't leave his head. His hand always hurt when he thought about her, and occasionally the text that he had written into his hand many times last year, was visible again for a short time. Harry knew that Dolores Umbridge was not coming back, and thus they had to get another new Defense teacher. Harry thought that Dumbledore himself might take this position this year, but he was not sure if he could do that, considering the Order of the Phoenix needed him just as badly.

Next to the books and Hagrid's gift, there was a huge pile of what seemed to be some kind of strange socks. Each of them had another color, and some of them had colors Harry had never seen before. The strange, randomly shaped things were not as much socks as anything else; he had once tried on some of them but noticed that if they were socks they could only be worn by strange creatures with at least 21 toes on each feet, connected to the back of the foot. The house-elf Dobby had sent these, and it was obvious that most of them were made from the 'clothes' Hermione had been making for months, when she and Harry were in their sixth year. Her strange ideas about house-elfs became more and more irritating. Dobby had sent all these socks so he could wear another one each day; and without missing a single day, there had been a sock delivery every day. Except today. But, as Harry figured, it wasn't much of a loss, even though Dobby meant it good.

He smiled again when he saw the next gift. It was the gift that had intrigued him the most, since it was without a doubt quite expensive. It was what appeared to be a very large version of a Collector's card. On it was none other than his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The Huge card often winked at him, but whenever Harry or Dumbledore had the need to speak, they could do so trough the card. This way, Dumbledore never had to apparate into Harry's house, which was something the Dursley's where strictly against, and he could have 'secret' talks with other members from the Order. Remus had appeared on the card several times, and the name of the card had changed with him. Dumbledore had explained in his letter that there was an empty painting in the living room of Grimmauld Place 12. His head would appear there whenever he had the urge to talk. There was almost always someone to answer his calls. There were times when Crookshanks would look at him trough the window that the card almost was. Even then, Harry was grateful for the fact that he could see at least something from the wizarding world. Of course, Ron and Hermione talked to him every so many days, just to keep his spirit up. At the moment, the card had no picture and no name.

Harry glanced to the final present that stood next to the rest. It had been the most magnificent present he had received. He wasn't sure from who it came, but Dumbledore knew, and had smilingly approved the item to be brought to Harry immediately. The beautiful slender broom glittered in the bright morning sun, and the engraved words 'For Harry' seemed to burn. The broom was a custom made Nimbus. Almost unfordable, and Ron's mouth had dropped when he had seen it. Even most professional Quidditch-players didn't have a customized version of their broom. This broom was based upon the Nimbus 3000, one of the latest Nimbus-class brooms to hit the market. It was improved with many spells, to make it faster, more stable and more movable than any other broom that had ever been made. Harry stared at it. He was sure this would drop some more mouths when he got back to school

The thoughts about school cheered him up a bit. He knew that his godfather had most likely sent the broom, although indirectly. Sirius had known that Quidditch was Harry's greatest passion. And most likely his will had contained an entry concerning a custom broom. Harry smiled. He couldn't wait to try out the new Nimbus, and was anxious about playing Quidditch again. His mind didn't want to think about another thing that had to be done this year. Occlumency, the sealing of the mind, would take away many of his free hours. 'At least I won't be getting Occlumency from Snape' Harry thought. Snape. The most hated teacher of Hogwarts. He seemed to like the fact that he could say anything to Harry; how he could just substract points from the son of the man that had made his stay at Hogwarts a hell. Since the Pensieve-incident the year before, Harry didn't want to speak to the man again. And Snape sure as hell didn't want to speak to Harry.

Harry stood up from his bed. The presents did what they were meant for; to make him feel less alone in the house of the Dursleys. He didn't feel abandoned, although he would much rather be at the Burrow now, or even the Headquarters of the Order. Harry opened the lock on his door. He had asked the Dursley's to put a lock on his door, and they had happily complied. They weren't so happy when they saw on which side the lock was, but as they figured, this would mean he would be on his chamber a lot. And that's something the Dursley's wanted more than anything else. Harry sighed and walked past Dudley's room. Dudley was away, as he learned from the lack of snores, yells and other strange sounds. Harry walked down the stairs, but waited halfway. He heard two people whispering, directly next to the stairs. Next to the cupboard Harry had lived for several years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stood, talking about something they didn't want Harry to know just yet. Uncle Vernon clutched what seemed to be a small letter. 'I swear to you, Petunia, I'm going to kill that boy if he doesn't make those damn owls disappear! Why aren't they flying to HIS room, instead of ours.' Harry didn't know what to make of that comment. It was odd that his uncle hadn't dragged him down to remove any owls. Another strange thing is that the small letter hadn't disappeared into the fireplace yet, as Uncle Vernon used to do with anything he received from owls. Harry continued to listen, ready to run to his room as the first sign of trouble.

Harry thought about the last time one of the Dursley's had received a letter. Dumbledore's Howler, harry thought. Aunt Petunia had received a bright red letter, that bursted into flames and yelled the words 'Remember my last' so unnaturally hard, Uncle Vernon had to explain to every neighbor in the wide vicinity, that it had been nothing than the radio, that was broken and thus continued to broadcast on the highest volume. Not many neighbors had been satisfied with that answer, but they didn't know what it could have been otherwise. Even Mrs. Figg had visited them, and did what Harry needed the most. She got Harry's uncle so mad that he had thrown her headfirst out of the door. Mrs. Figg had landed on her feet and had winked towards Harry. Harry thought about Mrs. Figg. The odd women with a house full of cats, was the only link to the wizarding world, that wasn't temporary. Harry sighed and tried to catch more words from his aunt and uncle.

'His name isn't on the letter, Vernon.' His aunt said, and her voice wasn't quite stable. She sounded almost frightened, as if she knew that this letter could not be anything good. 'Look, Vernon. It's meant for 'Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley, next to the stairs...They are some kind of warnings, Vernon. I think they come from that... that...' Harry gasped. He knew what Petunia had tried to say to her husband. Voldemort. 'I'm not sure why, but I think they are meant to do us harm, Vernon...' Harry kept listening, even though he knew he should hurry downstairs. 'I think these are supposed to do something terrible, Vernon. But somehow... I think they aren't working in here... maybe it's because of that group of ... wizards last year.' His Uncle was obviously very angry, as his head was red and huge. 'I'm going to kill that boy!' But his aunt continued 'This one said something like 'Ada Cadaver' when I opened it. And look what's on the letter itself...' Harry felt that he almost lost his balance. Avada Kedavra. Voldemort was now sending letters to kill the Dursley's. He knew almost immediately what was on the letter itself. 'Some kind of green skull, Vernon... I think I've seen it before. It can't be anything good.' Harry ran down the stairs, jumped towards Uncle Vernon and grabbed the letter from his uncle's hands. His uncle seemed to explode. 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN HERE, FREAK? GET BACK TO YOUR ROOM!' But harry didn't listen to him. His eyes were on the piece of parchment now clenched between his fingers. He had seen what he had been afraid of. The wizard-equivalent of a bomb-letter had been dropped on their doorstep. In his hand he held a small note with on it a glittering and eerily moving green skull. The defenses of the house had somehow defused the 'bomb'... but he now knew that the Dursley's could not leave the house again. He felt the blood leave his head. Petunia saw his reaction to the letter, and shrieked shortly before she passed out. Uncle Vernon managed to grab her the second she dropped, and she almost immediately woke up again. Her face was now even paler than Harry's. 'It is... it's... is it not?' she said softly, stuttering with every word. 'yes.' Harry said simply. 'Voldemort's sign'. Petunia shrieked again, and Vernon grabbed her, because he thought she might drop again. But she only looked at him, more scared than she had ever been. 'It was meant to kill you. The wizards that were here when I got back from school stopped it.' Vernon looked at Harry, cold and angry, but he could see that Vernon now thought differently about the Order. Harry could see the internal struggle between the fact that Harry might be telling the truth, and the fact that he hated the boy with all his heart. Finally he said something. 'What do we do now, boy?' his uncle said loudly, as if he wanted to show the whole neighborhood that Harry was just a young boy. And Harry spoke. 'I must contact the Order.' He jumped away and ran to his room 'ORDER? WHAT ORDER?' his uncle yelled at him, when Harry had already reached the top of the stairs. Petunia hadn't moved a muscle since she heard that they had almost been killed.

Harry grabbed the large Collector's Card and quickly looked into it. He knew his face, pale and scared, would now appear on the wall of Grimmauld place number 12. And then someone appeared. A strangely happy looking House-Elf appeared. Kreacher. Harry yelled at him. The Elf turned his head towards him, and he could see that the elf knew everything about the letter. The elf laughed and ran towards the stairs, waking the painting of Sirius' mother in the hallway. The loud screams 'Blood traitor! Filthy creature, go away!' filled the house. He was sure someone would now come to see what was wrong. But there was nobody. The house seemed abandoned. Harry turned around and walked to Hedwig's cage. The Owl hooted when he approached her. 'Hedwig, I have a message for the Headmaster' harry said, while he quickly sought for a piece of parchment. He would've almost used the bomb-letter, but he wasn't sure it wouldn't go off when it moved out of the defensive barrier that apparently covered his house. He found a small piece on the ground and quickly scribbled a short message on it. 'Harry. Come now. He is attacking' He quickly gave it to Hedwig, and then told her to hurry. Hedwig jumped out the window, and soared away as quickly as her wings would carry her. Harry sighed, as he knew that it was now time to wait for a response from Dumbledore. And as Harry sat there, pondering about what he should do, he suddenly remembered something terrible. The letter wasn't addressed to just Vernon and Petunia. It had contained the name of the third Dursley. Dudley. He yelped and jumped down the stairs. Harry knew that Dudley was in grave danger. If he had received one of the small letters with the Dark Mark on it, he could be dead right now. Or worse. He halted when he came to the bottom of the stairs. Uncle Vernon sat in a chair, doing nothing except trying to control his anger. Aunt Petunia hadn't moved an inch since he left her. A single word made it past Harry's lips, and he saw the eyes of both Petunia and Vernon. They became huge, and full of fear again. 'Dudley.' His Uncle ran towards him, and Harry was sure that his uncle meant to hit him. He jumped aside, but his Uncle ran past him, to the front door. Harry yelped again. 'Uncle, NO! out there those letters WILL kill you!' Harry ran past his uncle, who had stopped just in front of the door. He had heard what he had been afraid of. The loud laughing noise that Dudley and his friends always produced when they were returning from yet another destructive parade across town. Dudley seemed okay as he came around the corner.

A second later a small white letter fell from the sky into Harry's hands. It looked exactly like the one his Aunt and Uncle had received, only this one was addressed to 'Harry Potter, just outside the door.' But the letter did nothing. Then he saw more letters, falling from the sky. About halfway they seemed to hit something invisible, then they continued on their previous paths. 'the barrier' Harry whispered. Then he thought about something terrible. Dudley was outside the barrier. They would deliver their deadly contents to him, without a problem. Then he saw where the owls had come from. The huge tree that had always been there, close to their home, was filled from top to bottom with small, black or gray, owls. Each had a determined look on It's face, and a small letter in it's claws. 'DUDLEY!' harry yelled, and he saw that his nephew jumped up, scared that Harry might mean to hurt him. Then Dudley saw his parents, both pale, that appeared behind Harry. They too yelled Dudley's name. Uncle Vernon tried to push past Harry, but he was stopped by Harry's arm. 'Stop, it's not safe!' harry said softly. Harry yelled 'RUN!' towards Dudley, and almost everyone seemed to do that, except Dudley. Dudley's friends saw the owls and their eyes became huge, before they turned around and ran out the street, as fast as their feet could carry them. And Dudley, Dudley seemed almost frozen with fear, and didn't move a bit. And when the first owls began to realize what Harry was yelling at, Dudley had finally understood that something was very, very wrong. And with a high-pitched scream, Dudley ran towards Harry. 'RUN HARDER!' Harry yelled, when he saw the first owls dropping their packages in the vicinity of Dudley. The enormous boy ran with all his speed, but that was still far too slow. Some letters exploded, releasing what seemed to be snakes, snakes made of green energy, swooping trough the air, destroying everything that was hit by them. Some letters seemed to swell, and released a dark substance, that looked a lot like a shadow. But when he felt that the air became cold, colder than it had ever been, and when he noticed that he heard faint screams, in the voice of his mother, he knew what the shadows were. And Harry wasn't the only one to notice it. The Tall figures, darker than the night, seemed to float towards Dudley, who now had an intense look of fear on his face. Dementors, Harry thought, and he was about to grab his wand, when a panicking thought hit him. His wand was upstairs. In his room. Dudley kept running, which surprised Harry. With no positive thought in his mind, Harry wouldn't have been able to walk, let alone run. But Dudley seemed determined that he would escape them now. He seemed to concentrate all his thoughts on running. And Harry felt a slight sting of pride. Only a muggle could grasp onto life like this. A wizard would've collapsed of fear already. Seconds later, Dudley crossed the edge of the Barrier. There was a slight shimmering in the air, then the darkness seemed to lift slightly. As he looked towards the letters that covered the street, he saw the Dementors... dissolving almost. They changed into their shadowy form again, and seemed to disappear into the letters once more. And then, the Owls swooped down and picked up the letters. The letters that had contained the killing curse, burned away in the light morning sun, and no trace of them was left. Harry knew what this meant. He could never leave the house again, for he would be killed almost instantly. Dudley was crying in Aunt Petunia's arms. It was clear that the boy had a big blow from the Dementors. But, as Harry thought grimly, he would recover. Or at least, Harry hoped he would.

Aunt Petunia, uncle Vernon and Dudley walked into the house. They seemed to understand the house was a safe haven, for now. Harry's mind raced as he thought of the Dementors. Harry couldn't understand how someone would mail a curse, let alone send Dementors with an owl. Perhaps they hadn't been real, maybe it was just something to scare him. But Harry knew he didn't want to try if the Avada Kedavra curse would really kill. Harry sighed and rubbed his scar. He had hardly noticed when Dudley's life was in danger, but his scar burned, and he felt very clearly that Voldemort was pleased about something. Very pleased. Harry shook his head and walked inside, to try and calm the Dursleys.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw four shadows in the hallway. One low and wide, obviously Dudley's, two others that he thought were from his Aunt and Uncle, and a fourth, long shadow. Harry tried to grab his wand, but again found out it was still upstairs. Harry decided that he might been able to distract whatever was in there, so the Dursleys could escape. Harry jumped around the corner. In between the pale Dursley's, stood a long man with a white beard. On his shoulder was an owl. Hedwig. 'Hello Harry.' The headmaster said. Harry smiled slightly and then embraced the old man. When Harry released Dumbledore, the old wizard smiled. 'glad to see you enjoy my visits, Potter.' He turned around towards the Dursley's. 'I have to speak to you.' Dumbledore looked back at Harry for a second. 'ALL of you.'

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_I'll see to it that a second chapter is finished some time this week I hope you like it :-P_


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